Follow the Leader
by La Red
Summary: Bishop ponders her time with Bobby. Response to a challenge from Thursday100Plus.


Disclaimer: They. Do. Not. Belong. To. Me.

A/N: Yeah so I posted this over in Thursday100plus. It was my very first Bishop and challenge fic. I was shy about posting there, but it got great comments, so I'm posting it here. And for those that might give a damn, I'm working on the fourth chapter of** Growing Up Goren**, so you'll be seeing that soon. All right, all right? Let's keep this moving...

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Title: Follow The Leader Rating: Teen  
Flavor: CI  
Challenge: Follow The Leader  
Words: 765  
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Follow The Leader**

"Consistency," he whirled around in his chair to face me. He's using his index finger to fiddle with his bottom lip. "She killed him to keep the one thing that had remained consistent in her life. Her father left her when she was a child, she moved around a lot, her mother changed men faster than she changed clothes. George was the only person that stayed with her for a long time, that is, until Rachel. She knew George was out the door, so she killed her, to hold on to that one thing that had reminded the same in her life. Grab your coat, we're paying Lorraine Harper a visit."

What the fuck is this, follow the leader? When he says jump, am I supposed to yell out a cheery 'how high?' I'm always reaching for my coat and trailing behind him like a puppy instead of a partner. I'm a damned good cop, I know that and I've never doubted that, but he makes me feel like a cardboard stand in. I feel like I'm supposed to stand there, take it in, and just go with the flow. No input, just a silent agreement.

The car ride is a silent one. I made the mistake of attempting to be polite and make small talk, but he just stared at me like I'd peed on myself. Sure, he answered my questions, but he treated talking to me like an obligation. I'm not one to have a cow if I'm not liked, but to be treated like a chore really doesn't sit well with me. I glance at him, only to find him flipping through that damn notebook. I keep my eyes focused on the road, maybe if I run this sucker into a tree this will go away. Then I'd have to pay of the damages and my money's so funny it's doing stand up in Kansas. No way out, I guess.

It's all on me actually. I'd heard the rumors, I just choose to go with the notion that people tend to over exaggerate. There's definatly some truth in them, at least where I stand. He treats partners like a new hairstyle. He gets it, where's it for a while, and then cuts it away. I've seen him with the bodies. I know they're dead, but you really need to respect people's personal space. I'm all for being thorough, but the smelling is a tad much. Then there are days where I want to snatch him by the collar and scream that I'm not Eames and I will never will be. It's all well and good what she does, more power to her, but what the fuck does that have to do with what I asked? I sigh and shake my head, I don't know how Eames deals with this and enjoys it. They definatly belong together.

I'm a damned good cop. I had to work my way up, dealing with the sexual harassment and the intense sexism, to get to where I am. I do what I do and I'm here to do it well. There's nothing more than anything that pisses me off more than somebody rolling in my face, comparing me to another cop every hour on the hour. I don't expect him to love me, he doesn't even have to breathe the same air as me after work, but I demand some acknowledgment. Recognize me for once, don't look at me sideways because I'm not what you want.

Now that I think about it, I guess I understand. I read his file before I met him. He was abandoned by his father as a child and was raised by a schizophrenic mother--not much room for consistency. In reality he wants what I want--to be acknowledged. He needs Eames because she makes him feel understood. She listens to him. She can see him, despite what other's having been putting out. She respects his judgment, she adds her two cents, but she lets him ride out his theories. In the time I've been watching them, she's never let up. He's come to relish the bond he's established with her. Just me being there threw him right back to square one. Another change, another thing to get used to. I can dig it.

"There's a parking space right there," he points to a spot across the street from Lorraine's building. I jerk the SUV into the spot. He takes his notebook and reachers to open the door. "Come on, Bishop."

For the first time, I just follow.

_fin_


End file.
